


The Influence Stars Have

by miraestrellxs



Category: The Lion King (1994)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Google Translate Swahili, Human AU, M/M, Mheetu is older than Nala, basically they are lion shapeshifters, expanding the universe!!, i literally don't have time to write a new au but here we are, i want them to be Matt and Pidge Holt, shapeshifter AU, the royal guard is basically Dora Milaje, there is no Malka/Tama tag and that is blasphemy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraestrellxs/pseuds/miraestrellxs
Summary: The kingdom of Ardhi Ya Kiburi, of the centre of Africa, has welcomed the new heir of their King and Queen. When King Mufasa dies and Crowned Prince Simba is given for dead, the King's brother rises to power and Ardhi Ya Kiburi becomes the subject to misery.Ardhi Ya Kiburi's true King is in a land beyond the savannah living a life with no worries, unaware of the suffering of his kingdom (or just confused, deceived, and unwilling to face the ghosts of his past).





	1. Circle of Life I

**_It's the circle of life_ **

**_And it moves us all_ **

**_Through despair and hope_ **

**_Through faith and love_ **

* * *

 

There is a drum in the core of the earth, beating louder and louder as the sun rises. The drum makes itself home among the ribcages of every creature in the savannah, all rising to watch the colours of the sky change and soak in the golden light.

In the dawn of a new day there is no prey or predator. Just the same thousand eyes at the mercy of the light. Just the same cubs and kits and pups and calves struggling to stand and taking their first steps.

The ants follow the same trail as yesterday. The dust rises as the herds begin to move. Howls and trumpets and roars travel faster than feet and paws.

And the heartbeat. The heartbeat seems to come from the sun itself as it climbs higher up the sky, painting everything blue. Now, the heartbeat comes from the fortress carved in the stone at the bottom of the hills, not far from the Waterhole.

The herds move and head for the Pride Rock. The flocks fly and head for the Pride Rock. The solitary hunters join the masses and head for the Pride Rock.

Their King stands atop the highest tower.

 

* * *

 

The gourds sound like rattlers. The buffalo open a path for the Mjuzi to walk through, white and blue robes dragging and bakora staff rhythmically tapping the ground. They bow. The Mjuzi is the is the only one allowed through the great double doors of Pride Rock and into the castle.

 

* * *

 

Rattling go the seeds inside the gourds hanging from the end of the staff.

The King and Queen are purring. The Prince doesn’t purr from his mother’s arms where he is wrapped in patterned blankets of reds and goldens and browns.

Rafiki, the Mjuzi, chooses one of the gourds. One that hasn’t been hollowed. He raises it above his head, to the sky and the Rulers of the Past that are looking down upon them even in the blue clarity of daylight. They were there in the golden of the sun coming down as spotlights through gaps on the clouds.

The tower is tall and the tower is wrapped in a twist of wind that carries leaves and feathers and their ancestors. Rafiki smells them in the breeze.

He draws a line with the paste of the gourds on the forehead of the Prince. He extends his arms and the Queen puts her son, without the blanket, on the Mjuzi’s hands.

Standing on the edge of the tower, Rafiki presents Simba to the kingdom.

The kingdom rejoices.


	2. Tale of Two Brothers I

“Life's not fair, is it? You see I— well, I... shall never be King.” Taka allows the mouse scurry, try to escape but he catches the tail with the dexterity of a lion. A rumble in the depth of his chest sounds like the growl of a lion as well, it is laughter. “And you... shall never see the light of another day.  _Kwaheri._ ”

A red-billed hornbill lands on the sill of his window, snapping his beak and looking far too knowing for him to just be an animal.

Taka holds the mouse by the tail between two fingers decorated in golden rings. He holds it above his mouth but doesn't eat it so he can ask the hornbill, “What do you want?”

The sound of the hornbill is musical but Taka understands it like words. He lowers the mouse and it squirms and escapes, disappearing through a crevice on the rock of his chamber walls.

“Zazu,” Taka says to the hornbill, “You made me lose my lunch.”

The hornbill sings again.

Fast like when he caught the mouse, Taka launches from his chair and holds the hornbill by neck and beak.

“ _Taka._ ” The King is first stern and then calm when he says, “Drop him.”

The hornbill squawks more than sings, flying to perch himself on the King’s shoulder with ruffled feathers. Mufasa stands at the door of his brother’s chambers, still dressed in the ceremonial robes and wearing his crown. The goldens and oranges and reds of the gown drag behind him.

“Why!” Taka nears Mufasa — after taking a cane that is more an accessory than a necessity — and dusts his brother's clothes from the feathers and leaves that had been carried by the wind. “If it isn't my big brother descending from on high to mingle with the commoners.”

The hornbill sings again, more like a mutter under his breath (if birds can even do that). After all, Taka is far from a commoner. He’s still a Prince, he’s still second in line after Mufasa’s son.

“Sarabi and I didn’t see you at Simba’s presentation.”

“That was today? Oh, I feel simply awful.”

The hornbill squawks again. Taka scraps the top of his cane on the wall, the iron screeches, leaves a mark, creates sparks that don’t live enough to catch fire. Taka examines the scratch it left on his cane, on the forged roaring lion head that is the top.

“Must have slipped my mind.”

The hornbill sings.

Taka begins to growl and thrusts the cane towards Zazu, the hornbill, forcing the bird to flap his wings but not enough to take flight from the King’s shoulder. “Well, I was first in line... until the little hairball was born.”

Mufasa grabs the iron lion, moving the cane away from Zazu and away from himself. “That  _hairball_ is my son—” A growl starts in the depth of the King’s chest, teeth baring. “—And your future King.”

Taka fixes his cane to grab it proper. He walks around his brother to exit the chambers as he says, “I shall practice my curtsy.”

“Don’t turn your back on me, Taka.”

“Oh, no, Mufasa. Perhaps  _you_ shouldn’t turn  _your_ back on  _me._ ”

Mufasa issues a real growl, a real growl that makes Zazu fly off his shoulder and that is met by an echo from the stone walls. He stands before Taka, teeth bared further and still growling in his throat. “Is that a challenge?”

Taka grabs his cane by the middle, waving it as if to tap Mufasa on his broad chest. “Temper, temper. I wouldn’t dream of challenging you.”

The hornbill perches on one of the torch holders on the hallway, singing. Taka turns his attention to Zazu.

“As far as brains go, I got the lion’s share.” Now, to Mufasa. “But when it comes to brute strength… I’m afraid—” He puts his hand back on the top of the cane, the metal end against the stone creating an echo less frightening than Mufasa’s growls. “—I’m at the shallow end of the gene pool.”

Zazu flies back to Mufasa’s shoulder, singing and sighing in the best of his current capacities. Taka leaves them.

Mufasa laments, “What am I going to do with him?”


	3. Baobab Tree I

Water pours over the savannah, drenching the thirsty soil. The herders guide their cattle back to their pens and animals run searching for shelter. Others dance in the rain.

The baobab tree is the biggest one for miles, music comes from among the branches.

Pots made of clay and wood catch the drops of rain coming through the leaves and branches. The wind makes the mobiles of hollowed fruit rattle, twinkle, jingle.

Rafiki mutters to himself.

Staff and ceremonial robes hang from a branch. He supports himself on the trunk of his tree that has grown like the walls of a house, wobbly on his feet without the staff. The half of a guardo fruit on his palm, with the paste mixed with so much red. On the wall of his tree he painted a lion, a cub.

“Simba,” he proclaims after a soft laugh.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, the lightning too far to illuminate anything at all among the branches. The thunder sounds like the roaring of the Kings and Queens of the Past. This is how they let the savannah know they are still watching even with the stars covered by clouds.


	4. Betrothed I

“You know,” Sarabi says, “Sarafina just had a daughter.”

The Queen paces around the royal chambers, Simba on her arms and latched to her breast. The King is on the bed, reading over the letters of formalities the neighbouring kingdoms are obligated to write after the presentation of a new heir. The lengthiest one is from the nearest kingdom, from Mto Mlima, the kingdom of Queen Hafzah. Mufasa and Sarabi wrote their letter to her after the birth of her son no more than a year ago.

“I’m happy for her,” Mufasa says.

“We never spoke of promising Simba to another kingdom’s heir.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to, Ardhi Ya Kiburi is on good terms with all kingdoms as far as the eye can see.”

Sarabi sits on the bed. “Then I think Sarafina’s daughter would be great for Simba.”

Mufasa looks up for that. “Your lady-in-waiting’s daughter?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

Sarabi’s tone says:  _unless you want to have an argument about it._

“A servant’s child?” Mufasa reiterates.

“My closest friend’s child.” Sarabi lifts Simba to her shoulder, patting his back. The baby burps and tries to grab the earrings of bone his mother wears. “You sit on a very high horse for the son of a commoner, Mufasa.”

He exhales a laugh, it sounds like a lion's huff.

“Your father married into royalty, I married into royalty. Sarafina’s daughter will too.”

“And what's the name of my future  _binti mkwe_?”

“Nala, I think.”

Mufasa drops the letter he is holding, reaches over the bed, grabs his wife's chin between two fingers and kisses her. Simba loses interest in Sarabi's earrings and instead tries to grab Mufasa's dreadlocks decorated in gold. Mufasa rumbles a laugh, a low lion growl but amused. He takes his son into his arms, rubbing his forehead to help the lingering stain of the guardo fruit fade. Simba tries to grab Mufasa's fingers. Mufasa lets him.

"I can speak to Sarafina," Sarabi says. "She'll be ecstatic to hear the news."

"Will we tell them?" He means the kids.

"We weren't so young when we were told we were to marry."

"So, we wait?"

"Simba and Nala should be able to be friends first."

Simba is purring in his father's embrace. Mufasa agrees. He would do anything to make his son happy.


	5. Circle of Life II

The sun rises. The sun comes through the east windows of the palace, illuminating rooms and hallways.

Servants begin their day's work.

The sun hasn’t reached the highest tower.

“Baba, wake up!” Simba stands on his father’s side of the bed. “Baba? _Baabaa._ Baba, Baba, Baba, Baba, Baba—”

“Your son is awake,” Sarabi murmurs with half her face still buried in the pillow.

“Before sunrise, he's your son.” After all, he _is_ the King of everything the light touches.

“Come on, Baba!”

A lion cub jumps to Mufasa’s back and grabs the King’s hair between his teeth, tugging and making little growling sounds. He loses his grip, stumbles and falls and Sarabi’s mirror threatens to fall too when the cub crashes against it. The only thing that falls are wooden bangles the Queen didn’t bother putting back into their respective chest and just left on her boreu.

The lion cub leaps to Mufasa’s back again, with enough might to knock the air out of the King.

The lion cub is replaced by Simba.

“You promised!”

“Okay. Okay. I’m up. I’m up.”

“Yeah!”

Mufasa yawns like a lion, baring teeth far too sharp to be human.

Simba picks the clothes he dropped when he shifted, putting them back on. His father grabs a robe and ties it for some semblance of property over his sleeping clothes. Sarabi sits up too, stretching her arms and accepting the forehead kiss her husband gives her as good morning. Simba jumps to her embrace and, purring, their rub their heads together.

Sarabi nudges her son and he follows Mufasa out of the room.

 

* * *

 

The sun rises. The sun reaches the highest tower.

“Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.”

The savannah shines in the gold of morning. The horizon, where the sky kisses the grasslands, feels like a lifetime away. Flocks of birds cut through the landscape and very faintly the trumpet of the elephants can be heard. If one takes the time, you can even feel the drumroll of hooves stomping on the earth and to cut a distance for food or water.

Below them and beyond the castle walls, the citadel rises too. Someone plays a kora and a talking drum, making the early rising more pleasant than it is.

Simba sits on his father’s shoulders to see over the edge of the tower wall.

“A king’s time as ruler,” Mufasa says, “rises and falls like the sun. One day, Simba, the sun will set on my time here… and will rise with you as the new king.”

Simba’s hands search for his father’s crown but Mufasa didn’t put it on before leaving the royal chambers.

“And this will all be mine?”

“Everything.”

“Everything the light touches.”

Simba spots a herd in the distance, of antelopes or zebras. Lionesses do their rounds among the perimeter of the castle. The different bodies of water shine like mirrors in the sunlight, and the heat hasn’t settled yet. The chill of the night remains in the breeze.

“What about that shadowy place?”

“That’s beyond our borders. You must never go there, Simba.”

A canyon up north, the sun stops where it starts.

“Is it another kingdom?”

“No.”

“I thought a king can do whatever he wants.”

Mufasa smiles. “Oh, there’s more to being king than getting your way all the time.”

Simba sound genuinely surprised, “There’s more?”

Mufasa breathes a laugh. “Oh, Simba.”

 

* * *

 

Two crowns glisten on top of the heads of the King and the Prince.

In the citadel, the music floods streets and plazas. Women walk around with baskets balanced on their heads. Teenagers use long sticks to guide their herds out to the grasslands. There are cheetahs walking next to impala, crocodiles carrying birds on their backs, even an elephant with her trunk on the shoulder of a young man (making it look like a grandson guiding his grandmother). All the colours from the clothes and the houses and the animals look particularly bright in the morning sun. A man selling jewellery chats with a painted dog. The cubs of caracals chase after sandgrouse but without ill intent, they are just kids playing a game.

Two lionesses of the Jua Limegusa escort them, both golden pelted and they help open a path in the packed street for the King and Prince to walk through.

Vendors stop to bow their heads and offer some of their goods to the King. The man with the jewellery tells him Queen Sarabi would surely love this necklace of leather braided with spheres of aquamarine. Mufasa nods at the man, declines, and lets him go back to his bargain with the painted dog.

Simba tries to grab and touch everything he can reach, and even things he can’t.

He accepts samples of baked goods a kind woman offers him. He grabs _something sparkly_ from the stand of a kori bustard, and it’s the lioness walking by his side who has to put it back (the kori bustard is not happy and they snap their beak even if Simba is the Prince). Simba almost wants to ask Mufasa if he would let him join the kids running on the roofs, chasing each other, but he knows these lessons with his father are few and far between. The King has responsibilities, after all.

Though he does pay close attention to the kids running on the roofs, because not all of them are birds or felines or hooved, some of them are just kids. Simba had always just assumed everyone was a shapeshifter. All his palace friends are shifters. His parents, his uncle, his aunts, his cousins.

His father had never taken him out to the citadel. He’d only come with his mother to attend some business that had been too boring for him to care, so it is only now that he is paying attention. Mufasa has always told him a king's duty is to his people first, so he watches the people.

People that couldn’t shapeshift.

“Baba.” Simba pulls on the sleeve of his father’s clothes. “Those kids aren’t animals.”

Mufasa looks where Simba is pointing, at the kids on the roofs. He smiles and rumbles a laugh. Simba is sure he heard the lionesses purr a laugh too.

The King doesn’t answer to his son’s unasked but obvious question until they leave the citadel and reach the grasslands proper. They cross the pens with the cattle, the herders giving bows as they urge their cows on. The music from the talking drum seems to follow them from the streets.

Standing on the open grasslands is harder to see the animals gathered around the savannah. There are just the grass and the breeze and the small trees scattered around to bring shade. Birds sing from the branches of one to the branches of another.

“Everything you see exists together in a delicate balance,” says Mufasa to his son.

“I didn’t know there was people who couldn’t shapeshift.”

“Think of it the same way as the animals we eat. It is against our law and the half of our human nature to eat another of our same species, you wouldn’t eat a zebra you know can also be a man." Mufasa put his big, heavy hand on Simba’s shoulder. “Just like there are zebras who aren’t people, there are people who aren’t zebras. As King, you need to understand that balance and respect all the creatures. From the crawling ant—” He crouched and gestured to the little black dots crawling through the blades of grass. “—to the leaping antelope.”

“Antelope-antelope?”

Mufasa nods. “Antelope-antelope.”

“But, Baba.” Simba watches a herd of antelope pass them by with joy in the way they skip over the grass instead of running. They pay them no heed, they just go on their way. Unafraid. “Don’t we eat antelope?”

Mufasa smiles. “Yes, Simba, but let me explain. When we die, our bodies become the grass… and the antelope eat the grass. And so, we are all connected in the great Circle of Life.”


	6. Cubhood I

“I dare you to eat that bug.”

“We said not eating gross shit!”

“There are no rules, I can dare you to do anything.”

“Well, I’m the Prince and I say no.”

Tama shoves Simba and, startled by that aggressive turn of events, he falls to the dirt. Tama is no bigger than him so this is a feat that has Tojo laughing, Nala clapping, Kula giggling, and Chumvi gasping.

“This is why you’re no fun to play with, Simba. You always pull the Prince card.”

There is cleaning Tojo should be doing, dishes Chumvi and Kula should be washing, lessons Nala and Tama should be partaking in. Instead, they all got a pass from the Prince to abandon their chores in exchange for playing in one of the castle gardens. They can’t play close to the Jua Limegusa training grounds, because then Tama’s mama might see her and Nala and call them to duty, so they’ve settled for a grassy patch on the opposite side of the castle.

Here, just the gardeners are witness and they have not been employed to tell on the youth.

“You didn’t do my dare!” Simba pushes himself back to his feet.

“We all agreed kissing was off the board, asshole!”

And because there is no adult supervision, they can say words like that.

“The bug probably tastes like zebra,” says Tojo. He has the bug trapped between his hands, he hasn’t stopped squirming as it crawls and crawls.

“And if I don’t?” Simba is talking to Tama.

She draws a pretty dagger on him, a decorative thing with a brass handle and steel blade that glows silver with disuse. It’s new and shiny and sharpened. It’s a ceremonial dagger initiates of the Jua Limegusa are given as a promise of the service they will carry out. Nala has a similar dagger strapped to her hip.

“I will use this!” Tama waves the point of her dagger in Simba’s face.

Tama knows Simba knows she won’t actually hurt him, but Tama is also unpredictable and a brat, so who can be sure? Nala, sensing this, chirrups a low _mrr-ow_ as she steps forward and bumps the side of Tama’s head with her forehead. Tama responds with a sharper mewl. Kula approaches next, crooning. She is the calming factor, gentle where Nala is commanding. The three girls have a conversation with sounds from the back of their throats, adorable little things that aren't as menacing as Tama thinks.

“Fine.” Tama lowers the dagger but doesn’t sheath it. “If you don’t eat the bug, you’ll have to kiss Nala.”

Betrayed, Nala exclaims, “Don’t drag me into this!”

“You just said kissing was off the table!” Simba complains.

“Eat the bug, then!”

Nala is huffing and puffing, arms crossed and braided hair falling over her shoulders. Tama is smirking and purring (read: laughing), one hand on her dagger and that curl that always sprouts on the top of her head falling on her forehead. Tojo holds the bug. Chumvi would be flickering his tail in earnest anticipation if he’d had a tail at the time. Kula's cheeks twitch like they would if they had whiskers.

Simba eats the bug.

 

* * *

 

They are giggling and shushing each other, running down the hallway all six of them. Tojo is holding Zazu's cane and they are putting as much distance as they can between themselves and the King's most trusted advisor. It wasn't really a dare, though it was, but the six of them took it in stride and made it a group prank for the Royal Mshauri.

Where should they leave the cane? No idea, they just keep running.

How long before Zazu realises it's gone? No idea, they just keep running.

"Wrong turn!" hisses Chumvi.

"What are you all doing?" asks Sarafina. She is carrying a basket of fresh laundry for the Queen.

Behind their backs, the kids pass the cane to keep it hidden. Kula, at the very back of the group, is the last to take it. She stands behind Tojo, trying to appear smaller than she already is. It doesn't help their innocent façade.

"Nala?" asks her mother.

"We're just playing, Mama."

"Shouldn't you and Tama be down by the gardens with Ujana?"

"Mama doesn't have time to train cubs," says Tama.

"Who's in charge of you right now?"

Tama and Nala shrug.

Sarafina hums. "And you two—" Kula and Chumvi jump. "— Shouldn't you be in the kitchens?"

Kula passes the staff and Simba grabs it.

"Yes, ma'am," the twins chorus.

"Off you go then."

Kula and Chumvi scamper off, leaving four behind.

"Tojo."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Farisi told me the Prince's laundry was all done, as well."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sarafina props the basket against her hip, staring down the boy until he also leaves. Down the hallway Sarafina just came from.

Leaving three.

"Are you headed down to join the other Jua Limegusa cubs?"

"Yes, Mama."

Nala gives Simba a look of apology and Tama a look of mischief. They both go back the hallway the group just came from, on their way to the castle grounds and the garden the Jua Limegusa cubs train in. Where Tama and Nala should have been since the morning.

Sarafina smiles at Simba. "You might want to hide that better if you don't want Mshauri Zazu to find it. He and the King won't talk forever."

With a pat on the head, Safarina continues on her way to the royal chambers to fold and put away the clean laundry. Simba looks over his shoulder down the hallway Tama and Nala disappeared to, down the hallway that (if you make a right turn not a left turn) leads back to Zazu. Simba keeps running and figures he might just leave the cane in the laundry house.

 

* * *

 

 _"Pinned ya!"_ purrs Nala. _"See? That's what we learned today!"_

There are various degrees of amusement again. This time they all come through as purring, since lions can't laugh. With the afternoon training of the Jua Limegusa done, dinner taken care of, and laundry folded they can all play again. Simba had to spend the afternoon doing the boring part of being a prince, attending to private tutoring and doing ceremonial salutes with a wooden staff that was meant to mimic a sword. Tojo could only join him for the salutes because of the laundry.

Simba nudges Nala off him with his paws, but that only leaves him open for Tama. He has barely gotten back to his feet when he is tackled again.

Tama's wild curl, the one of her forehead, is replaced by a characteristic tuft of fur on the top of her head. Almost like if she too will grow a mane as she enters adulthood. She is tawny where Nala is pale and Kula is dark. Tama is less considerate than Nala, pressing down on the Prince's shoulders with her dainty cub paws.

 _"Get off me!"_ Simba shoves, but it takes more than once to get Tama off him. He shakes himself, passing his tongue over his shoulders to fix the fur that stood on end. _"_ _My Baba showed me stuff too."_

Chumvi's ears perk up. His fur is dark like Kula's. Tojo's is a golden darker than Simba's. Both their mane tufts are longer than the Prince's but he tries not to let that bother him. He's the youngest of the males, after all.

 _"We're gonna learn stuff from the King!"_ Chumvi purrs.

Simba, pleased with the attention that got even Tama to shut up, crouches. _"_ _You gotta stay low to the ground."_

He moves around, placing a target on Kula's incessantly twitching tail-tuft. The other five cubs watching with various degrees of interest— with Chumvi at the most and Tama at the least. Simba makes a whole circle around his friends, rushing a little more every time his paws misstep and dry leaves or dirt rocks crunch underneath.

_"Try not to make a sound."_

Simba pounces. Kula jumps too, a loud startled mewl coming from her. Everyone laughs. Nala and Tama nuzzle their friend to help her flatten her fur bristled in shock. Simba smiles.

Until Chumvi, to show what he just learned, pounces and takes him down.

 

* * *

 

On their own, the roars barely create echo. Together, they at least startle the small birds of the inner courtyard. This is the perfect spot to practice roaring, though they have been berated for disturbing the visiting courtiers and interrupting meetings with their practice. But the surrounding walls of the garden make them sound louder!

They’re not scary, the little roars, but the cubs want to pretend they are. The little birds certainly think they are scary enough.

 _"Tojo is still loudest,"_ says Kula. She’s on the grass, belly-up, first one to get tired of their little game and only roaring when the others do at the same time.

 _"That’s cause Tojo is the oldest,"_ says Simba. He crouches and then jumps, roaring as he does. This roar isn’t louder than the ones that came before it.

Tama roars after him, as if trying to one-up him. _"_ _I think I am louder."_

 _"Are not!"_ Tojo pounces on her and the cousins tangle themselves in a playfight.

Kula and Nala cheer for Tama.

Simba roars again, and further up he hears the rumour of birds that take flight from the ledge of the open hole that allows sunlight into the inner courtyard. He smiles, a lion-smile, and his whiskers twitch. That would be good enough to at least scare some Hyenas, right? Baba still wouldn’t let him join the parties that drove the Hyenas away but if he could just show Mufasa his roar was scary.

 _"Pinned ya!"_ says Tama, which has turned into a phrase among the girls. Simba has heard all the cubs of the Jua Limegusa use it, probably something regarding training.

Tojo tries to bite her ankle and Tama leaps off him with a loud _mrr-ow!_ Calling him profanities that she has definitely heard the actual soldiers say during their training. Simba only heard curse words second-hand from his friends because his parents and tutors were all very proper when they spoke. He’d gotten a wooden ruler to the head from his Mathematics tutor when he accidentally said _fuck_ in front of her.

With newfound motivation on healthy competition, Tojo and Tama begin to roar one after the other. Trying to sound louder, louder, louder. It puts a strain in their cub vocals, but Simba isn’t about to tell them.

Nala puts her chin on Kula’s belly, watching the cousins. Chumvi mimics his sister’s position with his belly facing the sky.

Tojo and Tama startle when a red-billed hornbill lands before them with a loud flutter of wings.

_"How can the King and Queen hold a formal meeting with the nobles of Aboyami when there are cubs creating a ruckus?"_

Everyone mauls over excuses but they get interrupted by Tama roaring right on Zazu’s face, startling him the same way they’d been startling small birds. Though Zazu doesn’t take flight in fright.

He has barely said _"_ _Young lady!"_ when Tama is bolting out of the inner courtyard and off to hide. Zazu debates between the bratty daughter of the General and the other five cubs, but neither are being disruptive at the present time. So he takes flight and leaves.

Tojo says to the others, _"_ _Run!"_ and they escape in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be dramatic but i would die for these kids.
> 
>  
> 
> also, i meant to say, but if i ever slip on the Swahili and end up saying something offensive or that doesn't make sense PLEASE LET ME KNOW.


	7. Be Prepared I

“Mjomba Taka! Guess what!”

“I despise guessing games.”

“I’m gonna be king of Ardhi Ya Kiburi!”

“Oh, goody.”

“Baba says I will be announced as Crowned Prince soon!” Which isn’t a lie but how soon is soon would depend on who you ask, the Prince is only ten years old after all. “And I’m going to rule it all!”

“Yes, well… Forgive me for not leaping for joy. Bad back, you know.”

Taka can hear Simba rummaging around in his room, but he remains seated on the chair near the window with a book held on his hands and cane leaned against the armrest. There is nothing dangerous Simba could accidentally hurt himself with and he doesn’t seem too interested on the desk where Taka keeps official papers and the likes.

“Hey, Mjomba Taka.” 

Simba climbs to the armrest, knocking the cane to the ground with a  _ clang!  _ from the iron lion head. He grabs Taka’s shoulder for support and the back of the chair. Taka tries not to growl and marks the page of his book before he loses it due to Simba’s antics.

“When I’m king, what’ll that make you?”

“A monkey’s mjomba.”

The king-to-be finds that hilarious. “You’re so weird.”

“You have no idea.” 

He closes the book, leaving it on the window. He grabs Simba and puts his nephew on his lap, directing both his attention and Simba’s towards the view of the castle grounds and the citadel and beyond that can be seen from Taka’s chambers.

“So, has your father showed you all the kingdom?”

"Everything." 

Which Taka knows is a lie even if Simba thinks it’s a truth. Ardhi Ya Kiburi is too massive for the Prince to see it all with the few outings he’s done beyond the castle walls.

“He didn’t show you what’s beyond that rise at the northern border, did he?”

It can’t be seen from here, it’s too far and Taka’s chambers aren’t high enough to offer the bird-view of the highest tower. The stacked roofs and houses of the citadel block most of the view with their bright colours.

Disappointed, Simba says, "Well… no. He said I can’t go there."

"And he’s absolutely right." Taka turned to face his nephew. "It’s far too dangerous, only the bravest go there."

"Well, I’m brave!" Simba straightens as much as he can. "What’s out th—"

"No, I’m sorry, Simba. I just can’t tell you."

"Why not?"

"Simba. Simba. I am looking out for the well-being of my favourite mpwa."

One massive hand the size of Simba’s face rubs the top of his head. His paws would be bigger, and Taka’s abnormally long claws, that peek out even when sheathed, would have made it easy, so easy, to just kill the cub. He doesn’t.

Simba laughs.

"Yeah, right. I’m your only mpwa."

"All the more reason for me to be protective.” Taka tucks Simba closer to his chest. “An elephant graveyard is no place for a young prince."

Taka fakes surprise and hides his smile behind the hand he rubbed Simba’s head with as he sees his nephew’s eyes sparkle.

"An elephant what? Whoa."

"Oh dear," Taka says with dismay that wouldn’t have fooled anyone who wasn’t a young cub easy to impress. "Well, I suppose you’d have found sooner or later, you being so clever and all."

Taka turns Simba to face him, leaning down to be eye-level with the boy. Simba doesn’t flinch or even glances at the scar disfiguring Taka’s left eye. "Oh, just do me one favour— promise me you’ll never visit that dreadful place."

It’s a lie when Simba says, "No problem."

"That’s a good lad. You run along now and have fun." Taka lifts Simba and puts him on the floor, giving him a pat on the back. Simba stops at the door to hear his mjomba say, "And remember… it’s our little secret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you should check out ShapeShiftersandFire's ["Two Four Two"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1308170) series for more Disney shapeshifter goodness.


	8. Cubhood II

Queen Hafzah of Mto Mlima arrived with an entourage of eight lionesses, wearing her crown, dragging robes of greens and blues, and her son in tow. Her visit had two purposes: one, speaking to the King of Ardhi Ya Kiburi and, two, presenting her son to the Prince of Ardhi Ya Kiburi.

Prince Simba and Prince Malka were just barely a year apart, after all. Their kingdoms were the closest in distance, the closest in trade, the closest in alliance. It would do them good to form a friendship that would, with any luck, carry on towards adulthood and help their respective kingdoms prosper when each wore the crown of the King.

“Can you shift?”

Prince Malka nods. “Since I was eight.”

Simba tries to ignore the way he can feel his crown slipping out of place. “Huh, I’ve been able to since I was _seven._ ”

Malka just shrugs.

“Why don’t you go outside?” Queen Hafzah suggests. She’s a beautiful woman, young, with dark caramel hair twisted in intricate braids that somehow allow her crown to be worn. “If that’s alright, Your Majesty.”

Mufasa nods. “Of course. Why don’t you show Prince Malka around, Simba?”

Simba takes Malka to see the Jua Limegusa, he needs backup.

 

* * *

 

Tama is invasive where Nala is polite. Together they make a dynamic duo that can only be balanced when Kula, the third and final piece, is around to mediate. Kula has work in the kitchens.

Technically, Tama and Nala have basic training but Simba has Princely Perks.

“How old are you?” asks Tama, dagger waving as if this were a serious interrogation.

Nala is keeping a close eye on her because they can’t be threatening the son of their neighbour, partner, ally.

“Eleven," says Malka.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Malka.”

“Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“No,” and Malka’s resolve is of steel.

Tama blows a raspberry on his face and Malka reels back, blinking. Simba chuckles and Nala giggles. It must be shocking to interact with Tama for the first time and not understanding how she operates. Malka isn’t all too pleased. Simba can hear Tama’s amused purring from where he stands. For once, he finds hilarious what she does too.

“Can you shift?” asks Nala.

Malka, after giving Tama a side-eye she responds to by mockingly jabbing her dagger towards him, looks at Nala to answer, “Yes.”

“Show us!”

Tama sheaths the dagger, crosses her arms. She wears an armlet that mimics her mother’s but without the muscles of her bicep it isn’t that striking to look at. “Yeah,” Tama says. “Show us.”

Malka can shift, clothes and all. The tuft on the top of his head is black and the one from his tail is brown. Curious.

The feat of shapeshifting with his clothes and not out of them earns Malka Nala's praise. Tama uncrosses her arms with less of smug expression on her face, which is as far as she will go to show she's impressed. Simba doesn't like the attention Malka is getting, even if he wouldn't want Tama's attention. He'd come to the Jua Limegusa for backup against the Prince of Mto Mlima, not for Nala and Tama to gush.

Tojo arrives just as Malka shifts back and starts to answer all of Nala’s questions, and Tama’s that are intended to be scorn. Tojo asks about the situation and Simba huffs an answer.

“Wanna go to the kitchens?” Tojo points over his shoulder in the general direction back to the castle. “We can hide there and eat whatever Chumvi and Kula can sneak us.”

“Baba wants me to be a good host to the visiting prince.”

Tojo points at Malka. “Him?”

Before Simba can nod or say yes, Tama says, “I heard kitchens.”

Simba grumbles.

“Let’s go to the kitchens!” Nala purrs, “Mheetu will give us a snack.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re busy, Nala. Go play outside. The Queen of Mto Mlima is here and King Mufasa—”

“This is the Queen’s son!”

Mheetu, Nala’s older brother and kitchen boy, pauses with a load of dishes to be washed balanced on his arms.

He sighs. “Jari!”

A girl around Mheetu’s age stops on her way to the other side of the kitchens, hair all wrapped inside fabric of a rainbow pattern.

“Is there anything we can give Mto Mlima’s Prince?”

Jari answers with something Simba doesn’t get to hear. Over his shoulder, or close to his shoulder, Kula appears out of nowhere and exclaims, “A prince?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Simba says, “You’ve known me all your life.”

He can hear Kula’s purring with how close she is, though she is quick to leave his side. She joins Nala and Tama and Malka introduces himself. Chumvi isn’t too far from his sister, asking what all the fuss is about. Before anyone can answer, Chumvi is called over by Mheetu to bring Malka and the others a little snack Chef Amne agreed to spare for the royalty.

In the go-here and go-there of the kitchens, Kula and Chumvi manage to leave with the others without some adult calling after them in anger. They congregate on the gardens far from the Jua Limegusa training grounds, their usual spot.

Sitting on the grass, Tama and Nala tell Kula about Malka’s ability of shapeshifting without dropping his clothes. Simba mutters about the ability being overrated. Malka does a demonstration and Kula, who managed to sneak three more pastries, claps her hands all covered in caramel. The girls begin to ask Malka about his kingdom, since none of them have ever been as far as the mountains of the east. Malka tells them about rivers and how it is colder than Ardhi Ya Kiburi, how leopards are common and how his mother the Queen told him they have close relations with the gorillas.

Chumvi, who Simba thought was his ally, is listening just as intently.

Fleetingly, Simba remembers the conversation he had with Mjomba Taka about the Elephant Graveyard. Trying to remain inconspicuous he had tried asking his tutors about the place. His Geography tutor had limited himself to, well, a geographic answer that hadn’t really answered the question. His History tutor had handed him a broader explanation. They told Simba of the folklore behind the place and why the Elephant Tribes had those funeral rites. It had been sacred ground for them, once upon a time, but the Hyena Clan had overrun it so the traditions of the Elephant Tribes changed. Really, Simba stopped listening when he heard Hyena Clan, latching onto that.

Seeing Nala has put her head on Tama’s lap out of boredom, Simba says, “Mjomba Taka told me about this great place.”

Tama interrupts her conversation with Malka. Everyone turns to look at him and Simba smiles. _Finally,_ going through his head.

“Where?” asks Nala, “It better not be anyplace dumb.”

“No, it’s really cool!”

“And where is this _really cool_ place?” asks a voice from behind Simba.

He jumps, turning his head and finding Gavivi, one of Tojo’s older sisters in Royal Guard get-up, standing behind him. She raises her eyebrows at them, from her left earlobe dangles the fang of an animal. Symbols shaped similar to scimitars underneath both eyes, marking her position as a Jua Limegusa.

Gavivi bows. “The Queen of Mto Mlima wanted to make sure her son was alright.”

“I’m alright,” Malka says.

Gavivi smiles. She is a very pretty girl, with short hair and the same blue eyes as Tojo. “I can see that, glad these troublemakers haven’t accidentally flung you off a tower window.”

“That was once!” Tama complains, “And Tojo was fine.”

“Only cause cats always land on their feet,” Tojo grumbles.

Gavivi laughs. “Well, what’s this cool place you’re talking about?”

“Uh… It’s, uh… around the Waterhole!”

“The Waterhole?” Tama scrunches her nose. “What’s so great about the Waterhole?”

Simba lifts his shoulder like he would have if his hackles were raised. Through clenched teeth, he says, “I’ll show you when we get there.”

Nala says, “Oh.” She pushes herself up from Tama’s lap. She dusts her rear from the dust, everyone soon follows suit.

“Alright,” says Gavivi, “I’ll go tell the Queens and King. Wait here until I'm back with a proper guard.”

Catching on, Tojo tugs on Gavivi’s jumpsuit leg, “Couldn’t we go by ourselves? It’s just the Waterhole.”

“Queen Hafzah isn’t gonna like you going by yourselves with Prince Malka.”

In unison and perfectly practised coordination, all the cubs (sans Malka), chorus, “ _Pleeeeaaase?_ ”

Gavivi sighs after a moment, only bearing the whines for a couple of seconds. “Fine… but I _am_ telling the Queens and King where you're going, and I'm coming along.”

“That works,” says Tojo. He exchanges looks with Simba, who nods.

Shouldn't be too hard to get separated from Gavivi by accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll soon find out this is all one overly complicated scheme for me to write the Malka/Tama content i deserve.


	9. Elephant Graveyard

#  **or CUBHOOD III**

Per request of the King, and under the insistence of Queen Hafzah, a sacred ibis (member of Queen Hafzah’s entourage) joins Gavivi as guard for the cubs. He is meant to be air support, but so far has been doing an amazing job on engaging Gavivi into conversation. She doesn’t look too pleased about it, hands on either hilt of her dual swords at each of her sides. The same way most people would shove their hands into their pockets.

The Waterhole is one of the closest landmarks from Pride Rock. The path well marked from the feet and paws that have come and gone thousand times over. Even from afar, Simba can see the zebras and giraffes and wildebeests gather around to drink.

Nala leans in to whisper, “Where are we really going?”

Simba grins. “Elephant Graveyard.”

Tama squeezes her head between them, unruly curls tickling Simba’s nose. From the back of his throat he mewls a sound of complaint. Tama pays not attention, as per usual.

“What are you two whispering about?”

Nala uses her cheek to press Tama’s hair to her skull and away from her face. “We're going to the Elephant Graveyard.”

“We are?” Tama pulls Tojo in. “We're going to the Elephant Graveyard.”

Tojo looks over his shoulder, at Gavivi and the sacred ibis (whose name Simba believes to be Dubaku). “We can't.”

“We just need a distraction,” Nala says.

Chumvi appears by Simba’s shoulder, Kula appears by Nala’s.

“What's going on?” Chumvi asks.

“You look suspicious,” it is Malka who speaks. He’s keeping his distance, out of place in the presence of the tight group of friends. “Stop whispering. What are you even whispering about?”

Tama’s smile to answer his question is all kinds of troublesome. That is all he gets. The idea of a tail slashing behind Malka in annoyance is almost visible.

“How can we create a diversion?” Tojo asks.

“Let’s get to the Waterhole first,” says Nala.

 

* * *

 

The giraffes lift their long, long, long necks to look at the children running around. The zebras flicker their tails and make those funny whiny sounds zebras do. There are humans too, washing their hands in the water and with staffs herders usually carry around. A hippo exhales two gusts of water through his nostrils from the middle of the Waterhole.

A confused Malka is dragged along with Tama, Nala and Kula.

“So, what are we going to do?” Kula asks.

“We should create a stampede,” says Tama, her hand closed around Malka’s wrist. He doesn’t seem very happy about it but no matter how much he twists his arm Tama won’t let go.

“That would only make Gavivi panic and more adamant on finding us,” says Nala, “We need something else.”

“Oh!” Kula perks, though it loses some of its charm without her lion ears. “I know! Let’s play hide-and-seek!”

Tama and Nala exchange looks. Malka says, “That’s actually pretty clever.” Then, “Why are we doing this?”

“You’ll find out,” purrs Tama.

They go around the Waterhole to find Simba, Tojo and Chumvi where they gather behind a rock. Whispering furiously and waving their arms in emphasis.

“We have a plan,” announces Tojo when he sees them.

“Oh, really?” Tama, unable to cross her arms while holding Malka’s wrist, settles with putting her free hand on her hip. She looks a lot like General Ujana right at that moment. A small, unthreatening version of the big and threatening General.

“A musical number,” says Simba.

The three girls share looks, then laugh. Malka laughs, too, even if just a little.

“Ours is better,” says Nala, disregarding the hurt and angry looks of the boys. “Let’s play hide-and-seek.”

“Hide-and— _Oh!_ ” Chumvi grins. “That is so much better."

“My idea,” says Kula.

Chumvi stands to rub foreheads with Kula as praise. Tojo and Simba grumble about their idea being _more_ _fun, but_ _fine, they can use Kula’s idea._

“Who’s counting?” asks Tojo.

“Me,” says Simba.

“Make sure to do it close to Gavivi so she doesn’t come looking for us,” says Nala, “We’ll wait for you on the far side of the Waterhole.”

 

* * *

 

Gavivi is still busy nodding and pretending to listen to Dubaku. She doesn’t notice Simba coming to start counting to twenty on a nearby rock until he reaches the number fifteen. When she notices she merely asks, “Hide-and-seek?” and when she gets Simba’s nod she goes back to tuning out Dubaku and humming non-committal sounds.

“Twenty!” Simba yells, “Ready or not here I come!”

The others are where they said they would be (a little to the left, but they were there). Once Simba joins them, giggling, they all run from the Waterhole making sure to stay out of sight of Gavivi and Dubaku.

“All right!” Simba shouts to the winds when they are a good way off. “It worked!”

“We lost ‘em!” says Tojo.

Ostriches pass close by. Songbirds cry from the branches of nearby trees, where monkeys are perched too. Further away there is a herd of elephants, the trumpets are audible even from a distance. The matriarch is berating or giving orders, hard to tell.

“I’m a… genius.” Simba grabs the front of his shirt as if were lapels.

“Hey, genius,” says Nala, “It was Kula’s idea.”

“Yeah, but _I_ pulled it off.”

“With _us,_ and all you did was _count._ Anyone could have done that, _I_ could have done that.”

“Oh yeah?” At the less of a brisk pace they are moving now, Simba jumps and shifts, landing on Nala who is a lion now too. They roll on the dirt, the others laughing around them.

There is an offhanded comment from Malka, a hesitant attempt at joining the jokes, on how he didn’t want to think how much Simba would brag had they done the musical number. Tama, always up for making fun of him, supplies Simba would have wanted to be the lead singer and they would have _definitely_ heard a lot more of it. Tojo, the traitor, laughs with everyone else. Not even Chumvi stops them.

 _"Pinned ya!"_ boasts Nala.

 _"Hey, lemme up."_ Simba nudges her with his paws.

Just as Nala turns away from him with whiskers twitching in amusement, Simba jumps on her again. He feels his stomach plummet when they fall down a slope. Always close are the steps of the others. Shoes scrape against dirt.

Nala pins him down.  _"Pinned ya, again."_

The girls are just beginning to praise Nala when a loud sound makes them all jump.

A geyser.

Simba easily nudges Nala off him, he shifts back and quickly dresses with the clothes Tojo picked when he turned. Nala does the same, her clothes on Kula's hands.

All seven of them survey the landscape, not having realised the sun seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Simba vaguely remembers what his History tutor said about the Sun God, Jua, abandoning this patch of land when it was corrupted by the Hyena Clan. Even if the sky is blue above them, it feels cold and dark like a stormy night. And just as eerie, ominous, threatening.

“This is it,” says Simba, “We made it.”

They walk up to a raised portion of the ground, on top of which rests a massive elephant skull. Gathered in a line with hands on the tusk, they look beyond. Dirt and decay, crumbling bones, and more geysers exhaling toward the sky. There is a sense of _lacking_ in this place, not just because of the sun. There are no birds singing faintly on the trees, or a breeze rustling through the tall grass. It is just all seven of them, breathing. Only they are alive.

“It’s really creepy,” says Nala.

“Yeah,” breaths Samba, hands on the elephant tusk where it curves to a point. “Isn't it great?”

“We could get in trouble,” says Kula, though she sounds more afraid.

Simba grins. “I know, huh.”

Tama tugs on Malka’s wrist, he seems to have accepted his fate of being dragged around and now he looks only mildly bored. “I wonder if its brains are still in there.”

In unison, the twins whimper.

Simba hurries to catch up with Tama, bumping Malka on the shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out. Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Nala and Tojo join them. Kula and Chumvi hurry after, with Chumvi saying, “Wait up!”

“I think we should go back,” says Kula. She grabs Nala’s and Chumvi’s hands.

“Come on, Kula,” says Tama, “Where’s your sense of adventure? You knew we were coming here.”

“I didn’t think it would be this scary. It seems dangerous.”

“Danger? _Hah!_ ” Simba leaps to stand before the others, stopping their slow walk to the opening leading to the inside of the elephant skull. “I laugh in the face of danger!”

Simba’s laugh is interrupted by a sound like laughter, but not _laughter_ , coming from inside the elephant skull. Something maniacal, something like a howl. Tojo and Chumvi grab Simba and pull him back, all seven cubs gather and press closer, closer, closer.

“Well, well, well.” A woman in rags saunters out of the elephant skull, a necklace of mismatched bones and teeth falling over her bare breasts. Hair cut mercilessly short. “Banji, what do we have here?”

Two men follow, dressed in rags and bones and teeth as well. The face of the shorter looks like it has been incessantly picked by fleas and ticks. In contrast to her, they have long hair with flies buzzing around their heads. That sound fills the silence where there should have been white noise.

“I don’t know, Shenzi,” says the taller of the male, “What do you think, Ebo?”

The shorter man makes the howling manic laughter.

The cubs press closer, closer, closer together. Simba feels more than sees Malka trying to set himself free from Tama’s grip to stand and defend or something. Simba beats him to it, pushing Nala and Kula back and standing in front of the others. He can hear the little growl in the back of Tama’s throat and see Nala’s hand twitching over the hilt of her decorative dagger.

“Just what I was thinking,” says the taller male, the one the female called Banji, “Trespassers.”

“We’re so sorry,” whimpers Chumvi, “It was an accident.”

All three of them laugh that manic laughter, now circling around the cubs and forcing them to come closer and closer and closer. Malka growls at them, but a cub’s growl has nothing of scary. Tama already has her dagger out.

They smell like rot and decay, something between putrid fruit and putrid meat. The one named Ebo is missing more than a couple of teeth, his tongue covered in spots hangs over the side of his jaw. All three pant like water buffalo in the sun. Shenzi, the woman, and Banji lick their lips and spit something dark. Could be blood, could be dirt, could be something else.

“That’s some pretty knife you’ve got there, kitty,” says Senzi, flickering Tama’s dagger away from her when Tama thrusts it an inch in her face. “Where you get it?”

“Jua Limegusa,” Tama thrusts the dagger again.

“ _Oooh,_ ” Shenzi leans down, her necklace of bones and teeth going  _click, click, click._ “Royal Guard, huh? I know you.” Her face comes closer to Tama. Tama is sensible enough to take a step back. “You’re General Ujana’s little brat, ain’t ya?”

“My name’s Tama.”

Ebo is sniffing along the hairs of the cubs. Kula is on the verge of tears. Tama pokes Ebo experimentally with the point of her dagger and gains herself a growl. Nala keeps a firm hold on Simba’s arm, hiding behind him when it should be the other way around. She’s the one with the weapon. Chumvi is hugging her to a degree in their awkward angles to keep eyes on all three hyenas at once.

Banji says, “And that would make you—”

Simba flinches when he feels Banji pull on his ear. A startled  _mrr-ow!_ that is undignified and not threatening at all escapes him. He bares his teeth but Banji just smiles. His lower right canine is completely black.

“The future king!” Simba challenges.

Shenzi abandons Tama and appears right on Simba’s face in a second. “Do you know what we do to kings who step out of their kingdom?”

Simba scoffs. He tries to spit at them, but he doesn’t exactly manage it. “You can’t do anything to me.”

“You aren’t prince here,” mumbles Tojo, “We’re on their land.”

“But Zazu told me they’re nothing but slobbering mangy stupid poachers.”

Simba feels all five of his friends (and Malka) shrink in on themselves at that. Tama mutters something he doesn’t exactly hear but that calls him an idiot nonetheless. Shenzi, Banji and Ebo move in closer if possible.

Banji takes Shenzi’s place again. “Who you callin’ a slobbering mangy poacher?!”

“Oh quit scaring them, Banji.” Shenzi spits black onto the grey dirt. Something small and also black tries to crawl from the spit. “Look at this other one.” She rounds to Malka, leaving Banji to breathe on Simba’s face again.

Ebo touches Tama’s armlet. Grabs her dagger by the blade, but releases a giggle of a scream when it cuts his fingers and palm. Appalled, as if he’s surprised it hurt him. Tama growls, but it's more adorable than threatening.

“You look well groomed,” Shenzi says to Malka, “You a little prince too?”

Malka doesn’t respond.

Shenzi grabs him by the hair, pulls back, makes him look at her. Tama tries for bravery again. Kula is actively whimpering now, she’s latched herself to Tama and, borderline on desperation, grabs Tama’s wrist to keep her from moving. Before she does something stupid with the dagger.

“Why don’t you stay?” Shenzi says, “We’d _love_ you stick around for dinner.”

Simba grabs Nala’s hand, the hand closed around the hilt of her dagger. With her, he unsheaths the dagger and, with her, makes a red gash on Shenzi’s face.

The second between Shenzi’s scream and the blood and the shock, the seven cubs take off running.

They don’t know where. They just run.

Holding hands and arms and wrists, they run. Kula is crying.

“I can’t breathe,” Kula says, wheezes, “I can’t breathe, _stop._ ”

“We  _can’t_ ,” says Tojo, but they stop.

Simba’s heartbeat is in his ears, his fingertips, his neck. Everywhere. He can no longer tell where they came from. Every skeleton looks like the other. The gas of the geysers makes the air hard to breathe. The same smell of putrid fruit and putrid meat of Shenzi, Banji and Ebo comes with it.

“Did we lose them?” asks Chumvi.

“I think so,” says Malka. This time  _he_ is holding Tama’s wrist, though she doesn’t seem to mind. His other wrist is being held by Chumvi. He is the tallest, and tries to stand taller to see around better by rising to his tiptoes.

Simba has one hand free, his other wrist is being held by Nala.

“Where to now?” asks Tojo.

“I think we came that way.” Nala points, but they can’t be sure.

Without the sun there is no east or west, just grey and something sweet and bones. Kula is still wheezing.

A geyser dangerously close to them roars toward the sky. Through the steaming water, the heads of three hyenas come through. Simba only has a split second to see Banji’s black tooth and Ebo’s splotched tongue, Shenzi’s face with a second mouth on her cheek. They break into a sprint again. Manic laughter like howls coming behind them.

Bones pile underneath their feet, making the way up slopes harder than it ought to be.

Seven pairs of feet become seven quartets of paws. They run faster, faster, faster.

Oh, gods, _faster._ They need to be  _faster._

A cave dead ahead, nowhere else to run. The ache of his laboured breathing stabs Simba’s ribs. Nowhere to climb, just the furthest wall to back up against.

 _"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,"_ coos a howling laugh that has the cadence of Banji’s voice.

Simba takes his place at the front again. He breathes, he growls. The strained mewl of the inner courtyard, the kind that can scare birds but not much else, rebounds within the walls. The hyenas are slobbering onto the rock below their paws. They mock. They laugh.

Malka is at his side. Before the other prince can try and growl too, Simba opens his mouth again and  _roars._

That roar isn’t his.

Something — _someone_ — golden and red knocks the hyenas to the ground. Mufasa snarls and roars like Simba has never seen him before. Dubaku, the sacred ibis, perches himself on a nearby rock with ruffled feathers. Gavivi is close behind, human and holding piles of clothes.

Blood. So much blood. More blood than Simba has ever seen. Tufts of fur and the hyenas try to escape but Mufasa pins them down, roaring in their faces again.

 _"SILENCE,"_ he bellows.

The hyenas mumble incoherent apologies and pleas, and blood, so much blood.

Mufasa snarls, _"_ _If you ever come near my son again_. _.."_

Apologies. Pleas. Blood. Blood. Blood. So much blood.

Mufasa roars and it sounds like thunder.

As fast as they can limping, the hyenas scamper. Whimpering. Whimpering. Whimpering. Their manic laughter mad in pain.

Simba slowly, oh, so slowly, leaves the corner and approaches Mufasa. He is careful not to step on the red shining on the floor, though not careful enough. Wet. Warm. Red, so red.

 _"_ _Baba, I_ _—"_

“You deliberately disobeyed me.” Mufasa is a lion then a human, fixing golden and red robes over his shoulders.

 _"Baba, I’m... I'_ _m sorry."_

“Let’s go home.”

The seven cubs turn back into kids. Gavivi hands them the clothes they dropped in their haste to  _run,_ even Malka dropped his. The Prince of Mto Mlima looks around as if waiting for his mother to show up as well, but there is no one. Dubaku says the Queen hadn’t been informed of the circumstances for reasons of panic. Malka will probably hear of it from Queen Hafzah when they arrive at Pride Rock.

“I thought you were very brave,” mumbles Nala to Simba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the God and Creator of this fanfic, I can play around with the length of chapters. This is 9 pages in Google Docs.
> 
> me: am i going too over the top with the hyenas  
>  also me: E V I L 
> 
> Were they scary? I can never tell. I hope they made you feel like they're the type of people you never wanna cross paths when walking down the street. Also, yes, I changed Banzai and Ed's names because as previously stated I am the God and Creator and can do whatever the fuck I want. 
> 
> On the subject of clothes, for the sake of my pseudo-poetic prose I couldn't mention most clothes made for kids in this universe are a kind easy to shake yourself from since most kids don't know how to shapeshift _with_ clothes. It's an acquired skill, can't have a suddenly naked king in the middle of a meeting because he had to turn into a lion to prove a point. Though nakedness isn't as frowned upon in this world as it is over on the West. While running, the cubs obviously tripped on their clothes and dropped all their possessions too, like Nala and Tama's daggers and Tama's armlet. No worries, Gavivi picked them all up. Formal clothing is harder to shapeshift out of for reasons of layers, layers, layers.


	10. Kings of the Past I

Magic hour, the savannah is covered in purples and pinks with a thread of golden in the horizon.

Gavivi walks behind the seven cubs. She will get her own lecture for letting them slip away.

Dubaku flies above them. He will get his own lecture for letting them slip away.

Mufasa walks at the front, red and gold robes whispering against the grass.

Birds give their last chirps and whistles of farewell. Jackals howl. The night critters come out to breathe, take flight, run, sing in their own language. Some they can understand, others they don’t, the ones of the human and the animal.

In the distance, the lights of the citadel come to life. Looking around, the lanterns of the herders headed back to put their cattle in their pens move like faraway fireflies. Light appears among the branches of some trees, from the earth, from other towns close to Pride Rock. They join the light of the stars and the receding sunlight.

“Gavivi,” says Mufasa.

He stops walking, so do the cubs. Dubaku lands.

Gavivi covers the space between the back and the front and stands in attention before Mufasa.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Take Tama, Nala, Tojo, Chumvi, Kula, and Prince Malka to Pride Rock. Make sure to inform their parents I will join them shortly to talk about what happened, especially Queen Hafzah. I’ve got to teach my son a lesson.”

Gavivi nods, walks back.

“Uh, sire?” asks Dubaku.

“Go with Gavivi.”

Dubaku nods.

Gavivi very pointedly grabs Tama’s and Tojo’s hands, little cousin and little brother respectively. She whispers, “Good luck,” to Simba and continues on the way to Pride Rock. Dubaku is human again and he puts a hand on Malka’s shoulder.

Simba feels like hiding under the tall grass.

Mufasa waits until they have almost disappeared from sight before saying, “Simba.”

As he walks, Simba feels his foot fall into a depression. Looking down he sees a massive pawprint, the toes point in the opposite direction he is headed. A pawprint of when Mufasa ran to the Elephant Graveyard. Crouching, Simba puts his hand in the middle. The mark dwarfs his little hand, and he knows his lion paw would be no different. He is supposed to be a prince but he feels small, helpless, less afraid than he felt in the Elephant Graveyard with the Hyenas but still scared. He remembers the blood gathered in pools in the cave. His ears still drum with the sound of Mufasa's roars echoing on the walls, bone-shaking loud. Anyone would have a reason to fear the King.

Simba stands next to his father.

Mufasa has his hands behind his back, one closed over the opposite wrist. He isn’t wearing his crown but the golden ends of his dreadlocks enhance his regalness enough. Simba had never been so keenly aware of how tall his father really was.

Cicadas scream from trees. Crickets begin to chirp.

Mufasa turns to look at him. “Simba, I’m very disappointed in you.”

Simba lifts his shoulders as if to hide. Quietly, sadly, ashamed, he says, “I know.”

“You could have been killed, you deliberately disobeyed me.” Simba is too busy trying not to cry to notice his father’s tone isn’t as angry as it was in the cave. “And what’s worse, you put your friends in danger. You put Prince Malka in danger.”

Simba swallows and swallows and swallows the lump in his throat, he feels tears in his eyes regardless. “I was just trying to be brave like you.”

His opportunity to show his father that he could roar like him, scare Hyenas with presence.

“I’m only brave when I have to be. Simba—” Mufasa put his heavy hand on Simba’s shoulder. “—being brave… doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble.”

“But you’re not scared of anything.”

“I was today.”

Simba wipes his tears. “You were?”

“Yes.” Mufasa crouches to be eye-level with Simba. “I thought I might lose you.”

“Oh. I guess even kings get scared, huh?” Simba risks a smile.

Mufasa smiles too, nodding and humming.

“But you know what?” Simba leans in to whisper.

Mufasa leans in too, and whispers back, “What?”

“I think those Hyenas were even scareder.”

Mufasa rumbles a laugh, something deep in his chest that is happy and Simba feels the dread in his stomach fade.

“‘Cause nobody messes with your baba. Come here, you.”

Mufasa traps Simba with one arm, rubbing his head with the knuckles of the hand not wearing any rings. Simba squeals, laughing with his father, he tries pushing him. Simba is nowhere near as strong as to push his father but Mufasa falls anyways and there’s a man first and a lion second. Simba is a boy first and a lion second. Freer now in his movements that he has four paws, Simba chases Mufasa around on the grass, growling and trying to catch his father’s tail or something.

_“Ha! Gotcha!”_

Simba throws himself at Mufasa, his father allows himself to fall and they roll around. Simba has his father’s ear between his teeth when Mufasa settles, calm on the grass, still laughing a little. Simba is laughing too. He takes his place on top of Mufasa’s head.

_“Baba?”_

Mufasa hums in inquiry.

_“We’re pals, right?”_

_“Right.”_

_“And we’ll always be together, right?”_

Mufasa lifts his head, forcing Simba to slide to his back.

_“Simba, let me tell you something that my father told me. Look at the stars.”_

He lifts his gaze to the sky that has darkened completely, no traces of the sun left and now just stars to shine. The moon is but a thin smile tonight. Simba looks too, he has always liked the stars. A game he and his friends have is finding and naming constellations. They only play it on occasion, since their parents don’t like them staying up too late. Because his father asked him to look, Simba feels the stars are far more numerous. Battling to take over every space in the sky that is black and dark blue.

_“The Great Kings of the Past look down on us from those stars.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you… and so will I.”_


	11. Betrothed II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been some minor additions to the previous chapters. Nothing that could disrupt the narrative, just my need to add more detail.
> 
> **CHAPTER SEVEN: Be Prepared I** has been rewritten completely but the conversation from the movie (the one where Scar tells Simba of the Elephant Graveyard) remains the same.

The laundry room is steamy with the hot water and Simba is sweating.

Tama and Nala are here too, with no decorative daggers at their hip. When Simba asked for Tojo, Zazu said he had rooms to clean. Chumvi and Kula were given the task of cleaning all the cutlery of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“Queen Hafzah.”

“No, Mufasa. My son almost _died_ today because of the incompetence of Prince Simba. _My son._ My only heir.”

“I was very clear when I told Simba he should never go to the Elephant Graveyard.”

“So he disobeyed you,” says Sarabi from her throne, “Which only makes it worse.”

“When have kids ever listened to grown-ups?”

Queen Hafzah stops her pacing. “How can you let those mongrels live so close to your kingdom?”

Mufasa leans back on his throne. “Controlling the Hyena Clan isn’t easy. From what we can tell, they outnumber our lionesses three to one.”

Outside the windows, there is only the darkness of the night. Torches line the throne room, illuminating the stained glass of the windows from the inside though the colours don't brighten. Queen Hafzah approaches one of these windows and puts her hand decorated in golden rings and onyx on the sill. The image of the stained glass is that of a colourful feathered bird.

“I will be leaving tomorrow morning, as soon as I can get my entourage in order.”

“Hafzah,” says Mufasa, “We both know it was a mistake made by kids, you can't—”

“No, Mufasa, I won't hold your kingdom responsible for this if that's what you're worried about. I need to speak with my son about the matter and I think it would be better done at home.”

“You're free to act as you please,” says Sarabi, “But you can discipline your son in Ardhi Ya Kiburi just as well as you can in Mto Mlima. I don't see the need for making the day trip back across the mountains when you just got here today.”

“I think, personally,” says Mufasa, “That the kids have learned their lesson already, they got a big scare in the Elephant Graveyard. Even Ujana's daughter was shaking and that girl has nerves of steel.”

The King laughs, the Queens don't.

“I disagree,” says Sarabi, crossing one leg over the other, “They will be punished accordingly. Queen Hafzah, may I suggest considering taking action of your disciplinary methods in our castle?”

 

* * *

 

Prince Malka is confined to his guest chambers for the rest of the stay. Simba last saw him during yesterday’s dinner, when Simba had also been prohibited from leaving his chambers except for meals because they had guests. The punishment evolved to helping in the laundry house because Sarabi — encouraged by Sarafina — decided letting Simba sit in his room and be bored wasn’t quite as productive as making him fold bedsheets.

If Zazu is to be believed, despite being a noblewoman, Sarabi is acquainted with manual work as sheet folding.

Simba wants to be angry for being forced to do this, but his shame lingers. His mother was very surprised when he didn’t show resistance or complains that went beyond a groan when she told him how he would be spending his time until she considered him disciplined.

Nala and Tama’s mamas are friends with Sarabi, which is why they are here too. Despite how much the girls complain about the physical pain after their training he knows they hate missing out because they would fall behind. Making them fold sheets instead of forcing them to attend duty (like Tojo, Chumvi and Kula were doing with their respective jobs) was a better punishment.

Zazu, professional at giving speeches, is tasked with overseeing them and rant about the importance of obedience and the dangers of the Elephant Graveyard whenever he sees fit. The Royal Mshauri had always been somewhat of an unofficial babysitter to Simba, something neither of them was all too pleased about.

The servants actually in charge of the laundry pay them no heed. The head of the laundry house, Farisi, greeted them and told them how to fold the sheets and they haven’t seen her since.

With Zazu always watching, the ever-going war between Simba and Tama has taken a subtler turn. Glares and threats regarding the buckets of soapy water, neatly folded piles of sheets that took way too long. It went on until Nala got tired, now she stood between the too, elbowing whenever they try something, anything. She won't let them pair up to fold the bigger sheets, _she_ pairs up one at a time.

“Oh, just look at you two,” says Zazu, he is sitting on a provided stool using a paper fan to try and fight the overwhelming heat of the laundry house. “Little seeds of romance blossoming in the savannah. Your parents will be thrilled, what with you being betrothed and all.”

Simba, just finished folding a sheet with Nala, looks at the two girls. Tama over Nala's shoulder.

“Be— what?” he asks.

“Betrothed. Intended. Affianced," says Zazu.

“Meaning?” asks Nala

“One day you two— _you_ —” He closes the paper fan to gesture at Nala and Simba. “—are going to be married.”

Nala and Simba make noises and faces of disgust, but neither are as loud as Tama’s laugh.

“I can’t marry her! She’s my friend!”

“Yeah!” Nala still has the tip of her tongue out. “It’d be too weird!”

Zazu is fanning himself again. Tama is still laughing, holding the clean sheet she is supposed to be folding against her face as if trying to muffle the sound a little.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble,” says Zazu, “But you two turtle-doves have no choice.”

Simba rolls his eyes and mimics Zazu’s last words, making Nala giggle.

“It’s a tradition,” continues Zazu with a hard glare directed to Simba, “Going back generations. Your parents were betrothed, Simba.”

“Well, when I’m king that’ll be the first thing to go.”

Zazu laughs that laugh adults reserve just for children. “Not as long as I’m around.”

“In that case, you’re fired.”

The servant girls working nearby, giggle.

“Nice try,” says Zazu with a smile but narrowed eyes. “Only the King can do that.”

“He’s future king,” says Nala.

“And Nala is future queen,” Tama cuts in.

Simba tries not to blush at the implication of that and continues to focus on Zazu. “Yeah, you have to do what I tell you!”

“Not yet, I don’t. And with an attitude like that, I’m afraid you’re shaping up to be a pretty pathetic king indeed.”

Simba smiles. “Not the way I see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a hard time with ages. Mostly because I don't know how much time I want between the Elephant Graveyard and the Stampede, since I am kind of doing my own thing in between movie scenes. I know for certain Simba is going to be twelve (at the most) when Mufasa dies, but how much filler am I going to include before that? Two years? Three years? Only God knows. So don't be surprised if I go back and change Simba's age (and the other cubs' by consequence) a couple hundred times. I will be sure to inform ages accordingly once we reach the Death Scene.


	12. Cubhood IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how long this chapter took to write. Back to the vignette styled chapters after this!

# or HOW TO SNEAK AROUND WHILE BEING GROUNDED

 

 

i.

"Do you have swords or knives?"

Malka sits on his bed and looks at Nala and Tama as they look around his chambers. They just came through the open window.

"Why do you need swords or knives?"

"To practice," says Tama. "We aren't allowed on the training as punishment for the Elephant Graveyard and we are falling behind."

"I don't have swords or knives. Why would you come and ask me?"

"Don't princes always have fancy weapons?"

"No."

Tama shrugs with a nonchalant "huh" as she continues to open drawers and the wardrobe. Nala limits herself to standing very close to what is in display around the room instead of put away.

"Why would you come here to practice anyways?"

"This is the perfect place for secret practicing," says Tama. "You're locked in here."

"Which means there are guards on the other side of the door."

Tama looks at him, holding a belt she took from the wardrobe. "You're gonna call them?"

"No," Malka says as if he were annoyed.

"You're bored here, aren't you?" asks Nala, she's sympathetic where Tama is mocking.

"Yeah," says Malka. "Mama is... very upset. My punishment is staying here until we go back home, I can't see more of the kingdom."

"Our mamas are upset too. We have to work in the laundry house now."

"My mama is more angry than upset," says Tama. "From what I've heard at least, she hasn't actually spoken to me. Shangazi Tasha wasn't happy."

The last part she said it mostly to Nala, who knows who Tasha is. Tojo's mother and Tama's aunt.

“So, can we practice here?” Tama holds an empty goblet now. “If you don’t have any weapons we can use we’ll just move the furniture out of the way and spar.”

“No,” repeats Malka.

Nala and Tama exchange looks. Tama puts the goblet down.

“You can spar with us too.”

Malka looks at them both. The girls smile, they win.

 

ii.

Four not exactly quiet cubs skid around a corner in the dead of night.

 _“Hurry!”_ says Simba. _“We don’t have a lot of time before they realise we're gone!”_

 _“Why are we doing this?”_ asks Chumvi.

 _“Why am I part of this?”_ asks Malka.

 _“Because!”_ says Simba, _“We haven’t been able to do anything together for weeks!”_

 _“And you’re our friend,”_ Tojo says to Malka. _"That’s why you’re involved.”_

There is a bang and then a crash.

 _“Chumvi!”_ hisses Simba.

They chose to run down the corridors as their lions because of the silent paws, but even silent paws can’t mask the sound of Chumvi tripping on a tray and pitcher a servant left behind. There is no time to waste, so they scramble and keep running. Chumvi mutters about being sorry, Tojo is a little more sympathetic than Malka or Simba. Neither of the princes understands servant work — despite Simba’s confinement in the laundry house.

 _“I have to be back before sunrise,”_ says Malka.

 _“You’ll be back just after sunrise,”_ says Simba.

Malka doesn’t get to argue, beyond the tall windows the sky is already turning light blue.

Simba guides them up a tower, around and around and around the spiral staircase. They get to the top, only Malka turns back to his human self. Neither of the other three has learned to do it, and the chill of the night won’t leave for another couple of hours.

The tallest tower is particularly cold, despite being the first to catch the sunlight.

It is a sight, as always, the savannah coming to life. Mto Mlima is set in the mountains, so, for Malka, the sight of the plains has been to feast on since his arrival. He has a nice enough view from his room (prison) but nothing quite like the tower. Simba, Tojo and Chumvi are careful when leaping up to the parapet to see too. Malka needs to stand on his tiptoes.

 _“Pretty amazing, right?”_ Simba says.

 _“I’ve never been to the tallest tower!”_ Chumvi says as way of response. His awe means ‘yes’.

Tojo says nothing, but he is Simba’s best friend so he doesn’t need to. He has always been better at quiet contemplation.

“It’s nothing like the mountains,” says Malka. “It _is_ pretty amazing.”

 _“What’s your kingdom like?”_ Tojo asks.

“It’s colder, we get snow.”

Malka turns back into a cub to join them on the parapet, and he tells them. How he had never seen an elephant before coming to Ardhi Ya Kiburi, about the leopards and the gorillas. He especially tells them about the snow, neither of the other three has ever seen snow before. They talk until the noise from the citadel really hits them, music and the chatter of the people and animals.

 

iii.

Mjuzi Rafiki doesn’t live in the castle, but he does have a study of sorts where he keeps potions and wicker bags filled with various plants. Solutions to assist the royal family without having to go back to the Baobab Tree. And, of course, the study is off-limits for anyone but the Mjuzi.

Here is why it is important to have friends on different tiers inside the castle.

Tojo, as a standard make beds and fold clothes servant, was able to get them the keys of Rafiki’s study. He complained a bunch, saying he was not going to make himself responsible and would definitely place all the blame on Simba if they get caught. Sure they couldn’t get in more trouble than they already did for the Elephant Graveyard, Simba wasn’t too worried about this.

“Oh!” Kula says the moment the door opens. “It smells really nice!”

Freesia flowers hang from a ceiling inside a pot. Mobiles of guords and other hollowed fruits or carved wooden figures also hang from the ceiling. Opening the door allows a slight breeze inside and the mobiles rattle, jingle, chime. The walls are covered in seemingly random paintings.

All seven kids walk inside, begin to look around. Well, all except for Tama who has offered to act as a guard. She doesn’t have her decorative dagger back, but she’s been making do with a stick she smoothed with rocks to pass the time.

“What are we looking for?” Malka asks, already an expert of sneaking past the guards outside his prison-chamber despite his better judgement.

“Anything that can make magic without Rafiki,” says Simba, instigator as usual.

“I can barely see,” says Tojo from somewhere deeper in the study.

“There has to be a candle somewhere,” says Nala.

“Got it!” chirps Chumvi. There’s a pause. “Okay, I found a candle but there is nothing to light it.”

Tojo hisses, “Keep your voice down.”

There is a brief crackle of bones as Malka changes into a cub to use his night vision and look around. No one else tries to mimic him and instead use their hands and as good a vision as they have as humans — it is still superior to that of non-shifters, but not quite as a lion.

“Nothing.” You don’t have to see Kula’s pout to hear it. “Maybe Rafiki lights his candles with magic.”

“But there is nothing magic around here.” Simba joined Tojo near the wall opposite to the door. “Just plants and guords and books.”

“Guords are said to be the fruit of the gods,” Malka says, once again a boy. “That’s why only the Mjuzi is allowed to eat it.”

“And why they put it on your forehead.” Nala pokes Simba’s forehead for emphasis. “Like when they presented you!”

“Keep your voice down,” Tojo hisses again.

“You don’t remember that,” says Simba. “You were younger than me and I was a baby!”

“I know, but my mama told me.”

“So, guord fruit counts as something magical without Rafiki, right?”

“Tama, you’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

“I got bored.”

 _SLAM!_ The door closes.

“Great,” Simba grumbles, one hand holding Nala’s wrist before she could poke his forehead again. “Now we’re locked in here.”

“No, we’re not,” says Chumvi. “Tojo has the keys.”

“I left them on the keyhole.”

The keyhole, outside.

“Well done, Tama.”

Tama huffs and puffs her cheeks. “We should eat the guords, maybe that’ll give us powers to open the door.”

“No!” screams Tojo. “We can’t eat that!”

“Let’s just crawl out the window,” says Nala.

“We won’t survive the fall.”

“We always land on our feet.”

“Not unless you’re Chumvi.”

A round of snickers.

“Hey!”

Malka groans. “My mama is going to _kill_ me.”

 

iv.

“Here.” Mheetu puts the bowl of dough next to Nala — next to because she’s sitting on top of the table. “If you’re going to hang out in the kitchens you might as well be useful.”

Nala scrunches her nose at her older brother. “I’m not doing your work.”

“Then find some other place to hang out.”

“You promised to hide me from Zazu!”

“And this is you paying me back for my good deeds. Now,” Mheetu sais, grabbing some of the dough. “We’re making banana cake for tonight’s dessert so what you need to do—”

“Hey, kaka?”

Mheetu sighs, exasperated, but responds: “Yes?”

“When I’m crowned queen, would you still need to work in the kitchens?”

“I sure hope not.”

“Would me being queen make you royalty too?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s how it wor— _hey!_ Don’t eat the dough. This is for the King and Queen and their guests.”

Nala shrugs, finishing what she managed to grab from the bowl. “You won’t be able to tell me what to do when I’m queen.”

“You’ll still be my little sister, I’ll definitely tell you what to do.”

 

v.

_CRASH!_

“Alright, we’re done for.”

“That’s Malka’s chamber, only he will notice.”

“And the next person who goes in that will definitely want to know who broke the window.”

“We can’t get in any more trouble than we already are.”

“I’m not even supposed to be with you out in the courtyard right now.”

“I’m the prince, I can do whatever I want.”

“Not if the King and Queen say you can’t.”

“Meh.”

“Next time, get Chumvi to come with you.”

“Lighten up, Tojo. This is about going on an adventure.”

“You broke a window!”

“And if you keep screaming the Jua Limegusa will hear you so _chsst._ ”

“Malka is taking his time.”

“Maybe that didn’t wake him. Pass me another rock.”

“No, I will not be a participant of this. I’ll get my tail beaten off.”

“Coward.”

“What in Theluji are you two doing?!”

“Wait, who’s Theluji?”

“It was Simba, not me!”

“You’re the worst best friend ever, Tojo.”

“Why did you break the window?”

“I was trying to wake you!”

“There’s another window connected to a catwalk Tama and Nala use, _you didn’t have to break the window._ ”

“I told you we should have asked the girls.”

“Shut up, we never ask the girls anything.”

“Simba, did you hear?”

“Yeah, I hear. Come out so we can go adventure.”

“After you _broke my window_?”

“It’s technically not your window, this is my castle.”

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“Come on, Malka! … Malka? Malka!”

 

vi.

The divide between the beginning of the citadel and the end of the castle grounds is not quite as obvious. If you ask around, the more knowledgeable types would tell you King Ahadi took down the massive wall between the two as a show of putting royalty and nobility in the same ground as the common people or something like that. There are only the whistling thorn trees now. Wind blows through them, creating music that fills the grounds.

Technically, neither of them seven is even allowed out of the castle but the girls decided to push it to the castle grounds limits. The terraced citadel begins not too far from where they stand. Kula, Nala, and Tama can see the citadel kids running on the roofs of the houses — some fly.

“If you could be any other animal, what would you be?” Nala asks.

“An elephant!” Kula says immediately. “Then maybe I won’t be so forgetful.”

Tama and Nala giggle.

“I would want to be an osprey,” says Tama. “I would get to fly but keep my claws.”

Kula takes one bite of the banana cake she brought along. “Oh, flying would be cool.”

“What about you, Nala?”

“Maybe a cheetah, I don’t know. All the cheetahs I know are very pretty.”

They take a moment to just listen to the whistle of the trees and the rumour of conversations that come from the citadel. There’s a noticeable lack of music at this time of day. Most people have work to do, so the talking drum will wait until dusk. Usually, they wouldn't be taking time to just contemplate, but imprisonment changed that.

“Hey, Kula?”

“Ya?”

“Why didn’t you join the Jua Limegusa? You’re a lioness, you could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to. And also Chumvi wouldn’t have been able to join because he’s a boy.”

“Boys can be part of the royal guard.”

“But not as Jua Limegusa, they get positioned on the border of the kingdom,” says Nala, grabbing a piece of the banana cake from Kula’s hand. “You can’t expect to separate the twins.”

Kula made a little  _mrr-ow_ sound, finishing the last of the banana cake.

“Speaking of Jua Limegusa.” Grabbing her friends’ arms, Tama pulls them a distance away and hides with them among some whistling thorn trees that grew closer together. It is a risky tactic, considering the thorns.

A full-grown lioness walks past.

“That was close,” Kula whispers.

“No, it wasn’t.” The lioness — now a woman — says.

“General Ujana,” says Tama where others might have just said _mama._

“You three aren’t allowed out.”

“We know.”

“I’m glad you know, Tama. Then why are you here?”

“Being cooped in the laundry house sucks.”

“Back inside, and I will be telling the Queen.”

Tama makes a small growling sound but does not argue.

 

vii.

From a third floor window, Nala, Tama, and Kula watch Queen Hafzah and her entourage leave.

It’s too far to see, but Malka waves the castle — and them — goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To whom it may concern, you should check out ["Dawn of the Lion Queen"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590478/chapters/41461946) by Dieren.
> 
> I also would like to ask if there's anything you would like to see in the story. As I said before, I don't know how much time I want between the Elephant Graveyard and the Stampede, and I'm all for "filler" scenes that are purely character-driven. They are my favourite to write.


End file.
